Folie à Deux
by Chesiere Cat
Summary: Even with the brightest sky gone, the war with Millefiore has all but just begun. And a certain prisoner is, at once, freed and captured again...only to be offered a tempting yet distasteful choice. Yaoi. 10069, 691869
1. Prologue: Rapunzel

**Title:** Folie à Deux  
**Disclaimers:** Katekyo Hitman Reborn! rightfully belongs to Amano Akira  
**Pairing:** Byakuran/Mukuro and Mukuro/Hibari/Mukuro (in later chapters)  
**Warning:** Non-con, spoiler (for future arc), yaoi and still un-beta-ed  
**Note:** This fic is originally written for Kuroikisei as a gift of our long friendship; however, since I have, desperately, fallen head over heels for 10069, and the pairing seems to be not-so-popular, I decide to post this fic here to see if it could, hopefully, attract at least an audience out there. XP

Cold. It felt so cold. Coldness stabbed him thoroughly over as soon as cool air caressed his drenched skin like a long yearned-for blessing that came together with a curse: he felt.

—**Folie à Deux— ****  
**_**Prologue: Rapunzel**_

The shackles binding him suddenly felt so heavy and he fell immediately to the solid stone floor that was as cold and drenched as he himself. He didn't dare open his eyes – one so blue and one so accursed as much as it hated this world. And as he lay there, on the wet stony floor where shards of broken glass lay scattered, his sense of feeling pain – that he was bleeding from those sharp pieces of tiny shards – was slowly subdued until it went completely numb as he listened…listened to the sound of water pouring down…

…As if…it was raining.

How he hated the rain…

He hated it because it shrouded the beautiful blueness of the endless sky. He hated it because it turned the world under the great sky he had always longed to see – even back when he was caged by his own 'family' like some worthless lab rats – into the world of grayness.

Gray…the color of sorrow.

Gray…the unneeded world.

If in the darkness was where he only supposed to be – the only place where he could really dwell, like the mist that could never be seen with bright sunlight – he would rejoice painting the world with absolute black, making it his own world…

_Rapunzel, Ranpuzel, caged in her tower, painted her chamber with the color of black. Her long, long hair was the indicator for decades of her imprisonment._

Yet it was still raining. It sounded as if it was raining. And he was soaking. Silky blue hair that he couldn't remember when it got so long clung to his cool skin so endearingly and soft as if it was an only gift of decadence.

_Rapunzel, Rapunzel, she wanted to sing to have someone hear her. But she knew no prince would have trespassed even the front gate to her prison so she turned quiet and learnt to smile. Her chamber was completely black as she sat behind the veil of darkness, waiting for the sun to rise._

A smile tugged up the corners of his pale lips. It was heartbreakingly sweet albeit sarcastic – the very core of his very self.

_A glimpse of light penetrated the blackness…only to be shut away…when the devil came visit her._

He heard some footsteps but he didn't have any wish to open his eyes. He just lay there as the ear splitting sound of the alarm rang like a good, unmoving corpse of a prisoner…

_The devil heard the song of silence and was enchanted by the twisted loveliness of her wistful prayer…for the most beautiful world._

…Even with the sound of gunshot and some warm blood that was spilled on his pale skin couldn't move him from his fake slumber. There was only an all too familiar smile presenting on his lips as he felt himself being carried over…to some place he clearly knew would be anywhere but Vongola's.

_And the devil said "Rapunzel, let me touch the decadence that is your beautiful hair and paint this world together."_

Because…the tenth Vongola, the brightest sky, was already dead.

……………………………………  
…………………

"Byakuran-sama, the gift you ordered has already arrived."

A man dressed in white uniform reported as soon as another man; dressed also in white albeit with decoration indicating higher…actually, highest rank, stepped out of a limousine that had stopped just outside the very gate of a small valley village.

"Really? That's quite quick."

Byakuran smiled…a smile so angelic that it could have fooled even his subordinates if it wasn't for what he had just recently ordered.

"We have also set up the barrier as you have ordered, sir."

"That's perfect." The smile widened as piercing violet eyes trailed toward a certain house where more Millefiore men seemed to gather.

"Now can I see my lovely little 'gift' already?"

"Yes, sir. This way." The subordinate said as he led his boss toward where the 'gift' was securely restrained because even if it was a lovely little gift, it was still a very dangerous one.

Yet, as the door to where the 'gift' was held was opened, like some kids seeing a new toy that they knew would become their favorite, Byakuran's smile brightened even more as he addressed the blue haired-man restrained to the only bed in the room in a chiming voice.

"Will you sing me a song, my beautiful Rapunzel?"

******—To Be Continued— ****  
**_**Or have you become mute?**_

Since this is just a prologue, it is kind of short but the next chapter will be long, I promise. By the way, since I haven't written anything in English for a long, long while, please forgive any error you may or may not find in this piece.

For those who have read my Naruto fic, 'Possession' before, I guarantee you that the way this fic will be heading will be different from 'Possession'. Well, at least, I will try my best not to let it go the same way because I, too, would hate two of my fics to be similar.

As always, reviews are pretty much appreciated.


	2. Chapter I: Alleluia

**Title:** Folie à Deux  
**Disclaimer:** Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belongs to Akira Amano  
**Pairing:** Byakuran/Mukuro, hinted Mukuro/Hibari  
**Warning:** Semi-non-con, blood, yaoi and still un-beta-ed

Praise to thee, O Lord, king of eternal glory…

**—Folie à Deux—  
_Chapter I: Alleluia _**

He was blindfolded. The little piece of cloth put him securely back into darkness – the world in which he was cursed to dwell – imprisoned for almost all his life. The sky wouldn't be so bright out there, so he didn't care to open his eyes in the first place and just let himself being carried.

Imprisoned in the dark for so long, he didn't really need the ability to see to perceive the surrounding. Being chained to cease of motion, he was yet his other senses seemed to sharpen. He could smell so-well the damp, musty stench of the damned prison that incarcerated him for so long, along with the much sweeter, fresher odor of freshly spilled rose-red blood, which was so warm on his cold skin.

The sound of gunshot and yelling and screaming seemed to ring a bit too loud in his now-too-sensitive eardrums. And even with the act of passive unconsciousness he was sure he feigned perfectly – for he knew this wasn't the right time to play – he could still feel the arms that were holding him tremble. He could smell it so well…

**The scent of fear.**

The people having to touch him touched him as if he was a taboo. The people having to hold him held him because it was an order. The people saying they loved him said that because they knew how love could be faked.

**Fastened. Restrained. Locked away.**

He was…a forbidden child, turning so quiet because he believed he would forget how to sing.

Yet…

"Will you sing me a song, my beautiful Rapunzel?"

A voice, sounding so joyful yet strangely demanding, rang from somewhere in the darkness, for darkness was all he could see. And he found his lips widened…into an all too familiar smirk, knowing that the game of pretended slumbering had reached an end. He spoke:

"Kufufu. Don't be mistaken. I am not some little bird at your mercy to chirp at your whim."

Still, he doubted a certain 'little bird' would sing for anyone but his own will.

The other man chuckled.

"Ah, well, maybe not a bird."

Then he could hear sounds of clothes rustling, some very light footsteps and then, finally…

The owner of the chiming voice was whispering music in his ear. "How about a flower?"

The vaguely annoying musical sound was carried with a puff of warm breath that instead sent a chill he willed not to let show down his spine. The other man was so close that the air he inhaled was of fragrance of lilies instead of various other flowers the room was oh-so-generously perfumed with.

"As much as I appreciate sweet talk, don't you think comparing a man to a flower insults my masculinity?"

Another fit of melodic laughter filled the air and a warm, tender hand – so tender it was disgusting – was placed on his cheek. The warmth seeped through his pale skin like it was putrid poison to an already rotten corpse as that hand started to caress his face in what seemed to be a mocking endearment.

"You aren't scary to me, Mukuro-kun." Long, tapered fingers moved up and as soon as he could feel them lightly touching and covering his blindfold, they were removed…along with the little piece of cloth that had him kept with the color of absolute blackness he wished to see.

For when it was taken away, the first thing he could see was the color of gray. The grayness he so hated.

"You aren't a fool."

**There was no blinding light.**

"Is that relevant at all?" Mismatched eyes shifted from the dullness of the sky outside the orchid-adorned window to look for the first time at the man he had been speaking with for all these past minutes.

"You are a bit too resourceful for someone living in a tank, aren't you?"

The man before him was all too bright for his taste. White hair, white uniform, pale – not unhealthily pale – skin and bright smile, he was pristine white from head to toe. Still, there was something about him that said he was not so white albeit the external whiteness that could make him blind. He knew exactly who this man was.

"And I thought Millefiore's intelligence unit alone was resourceful enough." Mukuro smiled. The humor didn't reach those mismatched eyes, though.

**It was going to rain soon.**

"So why don't you tell me the whereabouts of Vongola's main base?" The leader of Millefiore asked in a sing-song voice.

……………………………………  
…………………

"I have no idea. Why do you think that I would associate myself with the like of mafia?"

Byakuran's eyebrows lifted up in mocked surprise. Then his smile widened as his hand reached out to grab a handful of long blue tresses, marveling at the softness of them.

"Hmm... Given the information, even if it was, of course, indirect cause, if it weren't for the tenth Vongola, you wouldn't be put back into jail so quickly, would you?" The white haired-man said, bringing those beautiful tresses to his lips. "You have all the reasons to hate them."

Violet eyes gazed at the prisoner before him in both pity and appreciation. Pity not because he sympathized with the other's fate of eternal imprisonment but because he preferred beauties not to rot and die like some unappreciated flowers. It would be much better to have it appreciated first and then crushed under his boots. Delicacy's choice was nothing but to cling to his mercy.

"But you work for them."

Whatever he desired, he would have to have it…

"You're their mist guardian."

Whatever despised him, he would have it torn to pieces…

"Sawada Tsunayoshi is merely my target. Nothing more."

**To achieve absolute power.**

"Sawada-kun is already dead. I think the fact is clear enough." The leader of Millefiore offered, moving closer to cup the other's face gently. "You…are the type with so many secrets, aren't you?"

Mukuro lowered his eyelids as his smirk widened. "Kufufu. It's the same with how you love to fool people."

For a brief moment, the Millefiore boss' smile seemed to cease and the next moment, Mukuro found himself being yanked harshly by the hair toward the other's warm, solid body. The straps binding him to the bed protested vehemently as they tried to hold him back, constricting so tight it was almost suffocating.

"I like you."

A smile returned to the white haired-man's face; however, it didn't look so angelic and charming anymore as that vicious smile sealed the sweet words of spiteful retaliation just at the right time before they could leave the other's petal-soft lips.

**A demon disguised in the form of an angel.**

The taste of the kiss was as sweet as much as it was coppery as the false angel sank his fangs into those all-too-pale lips, breaking the delicate skin so that the appealing redness of blood could seep. Byakuran licked some of them away before drawing back to appreciate his captive's newly adorned lips.

"Beautiful." He breathed, so softly as if in fascination, wondering if he should make him bleed more just to see more of the lovely contrast – vivid red against pale white like a red, red rose on the snow. The word was merely a whisper of warm breath against beautifully bleeding lips – like a dream that always fleeted at the very first moment of awareness – before it could really be registered, those bloody lips were captured again like the prisoner their owner was.

Mukuro let himself sink back into the bed, feeling weight on him as the searful kiss deepened. He opened his mouth compliantly and let his tongue dance with the demon's, tasting the lingering essence of his own spilled blood. Despite the situation, this wasn't a game of capturer and prisoner.

**This was a game of control.**

There was no need to resist. It was just a game. It was just a kiss.

Just one lustful kiss that smelled so strongly of lilies instead of that familiar hateful one that always reminded him of scattering petals of cherry blossom.

Just a feeling of flesh gliding together. The sensation was there yet it was so fleeting…like a dream that was never real.

Human lives were all dreams. They started and ended and started again like an endless loop in which lives were meaningless.

Everything that could be seen, everything that could be touched, every feeling was…just an illusion.

The people having to touch him touched him as if he was a taboo. The people having to hold him held him because it was an order. The people saying they loved him said that because they knew how love could be faked.

"Ah…" A soft moan escaped the illusionist's lips, sounding so sweet yet meaningless like the hollow core of his long-living soul.

Memories of lives were nothing. This world meant nothing…

**It should mean nothing.**

Outside the window, the sky rumbled loudly…and then the first droplet of cold rain fell and hit the ground.

How he hated the rain…

Long, dark lashes lowered alluringly, casting shadow on his pale skin as he battled that naughty little tongue in his mouth.

He hated this raining world as much as the sky he always longed to see.

And as the need for air separated the two players away, it was the angel of insincere white that whispered:

"It seems we are more than just a little bit befitting, aren't we?" Byakuran smiled as he pulled at the straps. They were of no need now. Well, actually, he didn't really need it in the first place.

**There was no love…**

"Don't be mistaken. I just enjoy playing games." There was a dangerous glint in those mismatched eyes despite the temptingly flushed face and the smile plastering on those blood-stained lips. The Vongola's mist guardian lay back for more comfort as he licked his lips and waited, looking utterly at ease, for all the straps to be removed.

For everything…should be painted black.

"You should already have been aware of the situation."

"…" Mukuro's eyes narrowed slightly. He knew what the other man was talking about. He could already feel it the moment the blindfold was taken away. Walling unyieldingly around his consciousness, blocking any exit of thought from this room was an invisible barrier that cut off his current being from the outside world.

Still, he lied. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

**The world that he loved to hate.**

"I'm saying that you are unable to escape here." Byakuran confirmed as he successfully got rid of the last strap, leaving the Vendicare's gift of old metallic chains as the only thing binding Mukuro's thin limbs. "Without my permission."

On hearing that, Mukuro laughed. The sardonic sound betrayed the gentleness of his face.

"Aside from selfish arrogance, I didn't know you also resort to dictatorship."

Clink.

The heavy chains made a clink-clank sound as Byakuran heaved the blue haired-man up. The Vendicare only treated their prisoners to survive the extension of their sentenced lives, so it was of no need to keep the criminals healthy. His captive was so frail and light it was a little bit surprising for a creature deemed dangerous and convicted. The ragged clothes he had been wearing for so long had become so loose that it slipped off one thin shoulder, revealing more dreadfully pale skin as white as a corpse.

"Well, well, Mukuro-kun, don't you think our goals are…mutually exclusive?" The white haired-man asked, lips ghosting over sinfully soft skin of delicious white throat, taking in the exotic scent that was unlike any flowers he had learned to appreciate and crush that belonged solely to this forbidden child.

"We both strive for Utopia. There is no reason to mourn the gone bright sky when we can dye the color we desire ourselves."

**The bloody sky.**

"…You are no angel." The illusionist whispered, feeling his sensitive skin trembled involuntarily against those teasing lips. "And I don't need your merit."

"And you aren't a Bodhisattva." Byakuran said before hurling the man in his grab across the room.

The blue haired-man fell disgracefully – even more so as his poor legs that hadn't been in function for so long couldn't support him – crashing a porcelain vase of blooming daffodils in the process.

Daffodil…pride. How ironic.

"Also, I am pretty generous with my merit." The white haired-man smiled as he crouched down next to his victim, picking the shattered pieces of luxurious vase with his fingers.

**A twisted, fallen angel trying to play god.**

"It could be either on the bed or on the floor. Your decision, Mukuro-kun."

The rain was getting heavier and heavier. It didn't seem to stop so easily as the pitter-patter sound drummed so frequently everything outside was incoherent. Still, it was amusingly strange that he could hear the chanting of alleluia, supposedly from the village's church, so clearly it should instead be his hallucination.  
_  
__Laus tibi, Domine, rex aeternae gloriae..._

A smile graced his blood-adorn lips as a little piece of broken vase cut into his skin.

"Praise to thee, O Lord, king of eternal glory…I wish you soon fall and meet your doom."

**—To Be Continued—  
_Because I don't need your merit._**

Honestly, I quite like it when the seme and the uke are both twisted. I think that's why I seem to like this pairing so much even though the cause of it is just...that little encounter between them (ch.168-169) in the manga. (But again, I tend to like weird pairings.)

As far as I am concerned, Mukuro is someone who likes to be in control and seeing what he did to Lanchia has me think that being in control doesn't require him to always top. (Because even if it is possible, the idea of Lanchia being uke is really, really scary, to me at least.) However, if you take control away from him, Mukuro that is, that will be completely another story.

Actually, I still shouldn't be calling Mukuro 'uke' in this fic because even with such 'loving' situation I put him in, I'm positive that he's mentally seme. But that's where the fun is because years of absence from writing English fics do not mean I've become less evil. XP

Anyway, thank you for your reviews on the prologue, **xfobgirl and sinisterblood**. (Yes, this fic uses to be only in my LJ but as I have already said in the previous chapter, I have decided to dust off this account and post the fic here too.)

Again, reviews are very much loved. X3


	3. Chapter II: Crimson Sacrifice

**Title:** Folie à Deux

**Disclaimer:** Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belongs to Akira Amano

**Pairing:** Byakuran/Mukuro

**Warning:** Dub-con, blood, dark fic, yaoi and still un-beta-ed

.

Cut me, paint me red, and I won't scream.

.

—**Folie à Deux—**

_**Chapter II: Crimson Sacrifice**_

_.**  
**_

He couldn't help but smile as that little piece of broken vase cut into his sallow skin, drawing mesmerizing traces of vivid crimson. Well, he would have laughed if it wasn't for his capturer moving to straddle him, suffocating him with that disgustingly sweet fragrance of pure lily. And he had thought that Byakuran would smell somewhat like orchid that was his name. But again, Byakuran was the King of Millefiore – thousands of flowers – and thus he could have smelled of anything.

**Death, included. **

Like those funeral wreaths that bloomed so beautifully on the gloomy grave – the very tomb of the victim.

Everything became silent. Even the hateful sound of the pitter-pattering rain seemed to drown as well as that oh-so-respectful chanting of alleluia he was certain echoed so loud in his ears the moment before. It was all silent. Yet, before the prisoner could close his eyes and again pretended he was back in his personal peaceful tank…

The sky rumbled, roaring so loud as if to remind the prisoner of the raining world he so hated.

And then, in that temporary moment of flashing light, he found himself gazing into piercing violet eyes – glowing so intensely as if ablaze with cold, unflickering flame.

It was in that moment that Rokudou Mukuro knew – even if he did hate to admit it – he was completely trapped.

In those eyes, he could see everything. He could see his very own reflection – his eerie mismatched eyes staring back with unchanging colors of ruby and cerulean. And for the first time since his eternity-like imprisonment, he started to dread how fragile he now looked. Long, silky tresses spilled out in every direction from under him, framing his all too thin feature like an ocean of endless blue.

He looked…too easy to break.

It wouldn't be an effort for the other to snap a bone or two.

The Vongola mist guardian narrowed his eyes. And the reflection reflected back at him from those Amethyst mirrors also did.

And then, he saw labyrinth – unreadable things that were even more unspeakable swirling in those unfathomable eyes.

Still, there was something that was easier felt instead of just resorting to mere sight.

The blue haired-beauty almost laughed. Almost. For instead he only smirked up at the man on top of him. He could smell so well the ember of the fire.

It was lust – so great and powerful like the entity of the man himself.

**A silent but dangerous promise to devour him whole. **

"Why, Don Millefiore, am I that honored?" He asked, wetting his still bleeding lips, tasting that familiar bittersweet tang of coppery blood. "To have you feel that way about me." He could feel it so well…the other man's erection rubbing, screaming for attention against his lower stomach.

Byakuran just smiled as his strong fingers put back a strayed lock behind his captive's ear before leaning in to whisper: "Haven't I told you I like you already, Mukuro-kun?" Warm tongue sneaked out to give the sensitive lobe a naughty lick. "And I'm quite positive you were listening. So does this mean that you just crave to hear that from me more?"

The metallic shackles – the Vendice's gift – chimed a clink-clank song as the sentenced criminal tried to lift his arms, along with the heavy chain up.

"Kufufu. I can still strangle you with this rusty chain, you know."

"Haha. I'd love to see you try." The white haired-man replied, knowing exactly well his beautiful prisoner was too weak to even raise his arms – the chain was too heavy. "By the way, as much as sometimes I enjoy a tidbit of formality, I'd rather you call me with my name instead of my position."

Violet eyes gleamed with meaningful mischief and also…

"Because I'd love to hear that when I finally take you."

Hunger. So raw it caused a shiver to run down his spine. Even though he acted as if unfazed.

The broken shards glittered in the flashing light like magnificent diamond but funnily enough, it seemed the one in the false angel's hand glow the brightest. It shone white when held by the blinding whiteness. All too white, all too bright it was nauseating. Mukuro's smirk widened.

"Is your name Lucifer?" The brightest star before falling, spiraling down from heaven for desiring to make his throne higher than the clouds over the earth and resemble 'his power' on high.

But Rokudou Mukuro didn't need a fallen angel to drag him down the spiral. He had already been there, at the bottom.

**In hell. **

"I didn't know you are so religious, Mukuro-kun, sweetheart." Those honeyed words came to him in a puff of hot breath, whispering endearment in his ear. "But then a small sacrifice won't make me a total pagan, will it?"

The sharp piece came down, tearing the ragged clothes and digging its merciless edge into soft, pallid skin, drawing red as Byakuran again sealed those sarcastic lips with his own, swallowing those spiteful words of retaliation and loving each sweet, sweet sound his beautiful captive moaned into his mouth.

"Ah…ah…"

And he adored those lovely little gasps Mukuro made between kisses. As much as their opinions seemed to contradict – very much thanks to Mukuro-kun's stubbornness – it seemed both of them enjoyed this…fascinating game of seduction. Indeed Hedonism was an interesting philosophy…and a very addictive one to pursuit.

Perhaps if he touched this forbidden child a bit more gently, he might play some more? Or perhaps…

The Millefiore boss smiled in satisfaction as he felt that the smaller man was starting to get aroused.

The rusty chain between those petite, restrained ankles sang melodically over the rapping sound of the rain. Delicate beads of cold water sprayed in through the open window as a strong gust of wind made an annoying shriek. Cold, clear droplets wetted the decorating flowers before another gust screamed and plucked a petal as if to signal…

**This child might…break. **

On the floor, million shards of broken porcelain glittered in the flashing light, temporary illuminated before being utterly dulled by staining crimson – warm, fresh blood that oozed through countless cuts in ghostly white skin. And then the forbidden child whispered, in between one of those sweet, sweet kisses, digging his own flesh and nails in the blood-coated shards as if he didn't fear to be hurt.

As if…he couldn't feel pain.

"You can paint me all red. I won't scream."

For it was a needy whisper perfected with one coquettish smile.

Absolutely inviting.

Because Mukuro chose to be hurt instead of feeling things so gentle. He was used to pain as if it was his best friend, his shadow from his childhood. He wouldn't scream even if the other would paint him entirely crimson, for he liked Byakuran's gentle kisses as much as he hated them.

They were unlike those lustful, searing ones that always left his lips bleeding.

The other was trying to stretch the boundary of this game. Intentionally. And Mukuro hated it, dreaded this fact that he himself knew there would be one day that he would eventually crack from this faked gentleness. And this was just the start. The very start.

**He had lost. **

"Just fuck me."

Byakuran raised an eyebrow, seeming a bit surprised but then, his ever-plastering smile widened – he looked like a grinning predator. "You're too cute. But I wonder…" Tracing his captive's jaw line with a finger, he bent down and captured those alluring lips again, intentionally grinding their hips together so their erections were rubbing.

Mukuro's breath hitched and he tried to dug his fingers deeper into the solid, shard scattered floor to stop his body from getting too excited. His decades of imprisonment didn't only come with gifts but also an unforgiving curse: his skin seemed to be highly sensitive to touches, especially, warm, human touches. And he was now panting like a lowly whore that lacked self-control.

How humiliating.

"Kufufu." He should be laughing at himself and saying farewell to his pride. Only that, he just couldn't stop clinging to his already damaged pride – like that broken vase of daffodils – that he could merely curse and scream and die inside. Unfortunately, he could tell he couldn't just bite his tongue and die. Byakuran would certainly make sure he would endure till the end of this sweet torture.

Blue and red, red and blue. The blood seemed to have seeped and stained his lengthy hair.

_Maybe no prince visited her because she had already killed one, beautiful, crazy, bloody Rapunzel._

Blue and red, red and blue. The red was tainting, and surprisingly mixing so well in the ocean of blueness.

_She had long stopped singing. _

And he was panting and gasping and moaning. He didn't know when his old, ragged clothes were completely torn away. Pain mixing with pleasure as flame of hateful passion smothered him. He hated how sinfully sweet those sounds escaping his lips rang in his own eardrums.

He was intoxicated by this enchanted ambrosia.

_Until the demon finally came visit her... _

Violet and white, white and violet. The colors were all a blur.

"A...ahn!!!"

Those vile hands were all over him. It was like aphrodisiacs.

"Such a lovely sound. You just have to sing more, Mukuro-kun."

_Because the demon knew Rapunzel wouldn't scream. _

Violet and white, white and violet. Staring at those colors and he had become pliant.

**Bloody death. Loving lies. Uncontrollable lust. **

He was playing with something much more dangerous than fire. And he slowly melted.

Still, he wouldn't plead. He wouldn't beg. Even as one long finger glided down to caress the area no one had before dared touch. He stiffened. And Byakuran, again, smiled playfully.

"It's really your first time, isn't it, Mukuro-kun?" That finger then, without permission, entered him, probing around as if to test how the other man was reacting to the new sensation. "It's so tight in here."

Mukuro gasped, immediately tossing his head back – silky strands of hair falling into his pretty face as that naughty finger brushed against something inside him. The old, rusty chain jingled as its prisoner started to shift uneasily. His breath noticeably hastened and mismatched eyes widened as the second finger was quickly inserted.

"Ah…h…ah…"

The metallic chains kept jingling. Cold droplets of water dripped slowly from the window frame. And suddenly the already strong fragrances of various flowers decorating the room seemed to be overwhelming. He couldn't breath. It was like he was drowning even as he was being swallowed alive by smoldering flame that scorched even his long living soul. It was totally different.

It was totally degrading. It was…

**Pure torture. **

For he knew what was the only thing that could quench this abominable desire.

"You know it won't hurt as much if you just scream it all out." The hovering face of the devil whispered, still wearing that mask of angelic pretense.

"Kufufu. Why don't you scream for me, then?" Still, the convicted one persisted, for it might be his last chance to persist.

"Too bad. I'm just trying to be...helpful. But maybe you like it rough."

_Rapunzel cracked. Her chamber crumbled. The tower fell to rubbles. _

And the Corpse rotted. Dead man screamed. Only Lucifer smiled. He kissed away those glittering tears as blood seeped out to satisfy him when he finally took his sacrifice. The chains jingled like Christmas bells that brought the world joy and the children hope for presents from the Santa Clause. Yet, that night it seemed that…

There would be no sledge and no snow…as the world was still raining.

**The world cried.**

"Sing to me. And I'll love you."

_And Rapunzel bled. _

._  
_

—**To Be Continued—**

_**Because I hate your loving lies**_

._**  
**_

I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit too short but at least, this story is finally continued. Partly because I miss dear Mukuro too much. He has been MIA since chapter 169. What a significant number.

I'll have to apologize if I made Mukuro crack a bit too easily. (Though not completely. You'll see in the next chapter. But for this chapter, well, I admit I've gotten carried away. XP) Well, you see, I've been looking too much at those uke!69 fanarts and doujinshis. And I really think Mukuro makes a pretty uke. (I insist he is best uke for Byakuran, though.) Okay, I'll stop babbling.

As for the Latin in the last chapter, the translation is right at the top of the chapter and parts of the last sentence Mukuro spoke to Byakuran; Laus tibi, Domine, rex aeternae gloriae: Praise to thee, O Lord, King of eternal glory.

Anyway, thank you for every review and continuing support. And again, reviews are really, really much appreciated.

~Chesiere


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